Some Cats Get Too Close to the Wire Chapter 1
by Minarrett
Summary: Fuzz envy or Furball? When an imposter causes trouble for the squad, several leads fizz out before they become cases. But the game of cat and mouse causes danger, especially for Pete. Is he the target, or the draw?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Along the counter was a line of transistor radios. Admirals, Afcos, they ranged from cheap to expensive. Some shone with mesh radiator fronts and circular dials, some squatted with antenna majesty, and some were two-toned and smart. In particular the girl with the mod go-go boots and bright red nails admired the turquoise and white pocketbook-sized model with a snappy handle across the top.

Captain Greer stood behind the counter, his hair parted to one side and combed back, and the bow tie around his neck constricting.

"Does this come with AC or DC wiring?" asked the girl.

He held up the model and showed it to her.

"DC," he said. "It takes batteries."

She squinted.

"So it doesn't plug into the wall?"

He managed to keep his expression steady; after all, he was the fuzz.

"No Miss. It takes batteries."

The girl's eyes wandered, drifting now to the slick magazines along the rack near the door. She moved to flip through them. He placed the radio back on the counter and his eyes brightened as Linc, with a psychedelic sash wrapped around his head and black sunglasses covering his eyes sauntered in. There was always something special about Linc. The way he had of looking like he was someone who should never be pushed out and like young people had the right to rule the world at the same time.

The girl didn't like the look of him. She sent a glance of distaste to where the Captain stood at the counter. Her white boots flashed as she went out. Linc drifted over and took up a transistor and rattled it.

"Have anything to report?" the Captain asked him in a low tone. "Or are you just here to scare off my customers?"

He was rewarded by Linc's grin.

"You asked for this class, Captain," he said.

"So how's Pete?"

The smile disappeared.

"Getting tired. They're working him like he's three cats instead of one."

"He can take it."

They were interrupted by some kids coming in, looking for candy, but Greer knew that Linc wouldn't argue anyway. He was too used to the idea of taking the hard in life, and dealing with it. But Linc didn't like the situation, and neither did he. For two days Pete had been working at the warehouse down the street, waiting to be contacted by the gang of reds peddlers that they'd heard about. Both days Pete's shift had started at 5 a.m. and ended fourteen hours later. Linc, loitering in the deserted shell of an industrial warehouse across the street, found Pete often with his binoculars.

Working, hauling, shifting and sweating, non-stop with no breathers while the other employees ignored him and took lunches and coffee breaks.

Something about the set-up didn't feel right, and as soon as the kids finished dreaming of candy they couldn't afford and ran out, searching for the possibility of finding pennies on the sidewalk Linc leaned his elbows against the counter and confirmed his worries.

"Pete got pushed around today, fierce," he said. "This whole scene's a bad trip."

"Who pushed him?"

"The boss man. Like something personal, you dig? Maybe we should back off."

"They could be testing him. There could be a break in the case tonight."

Linc pushed away from the counter and dug out a coin. He bought a cola from the pop machine in the corner and popped the top with the built-in bottle opener.

"Or Pete could fall over," he murmured, never making eye contact as he strolled out.

Greer tugged at the wretched tie and turned to the phone against the wall. If Linc's instincts had kicked in, he'd learned to react to them. A few seconds and the phone on the other end of the line rang.

"Barbara's Beauty Shop," Julie's voice answered. He could see her standing there in his mind's eye, with her hair in a thick bun at the back of her neck and that professional dialed-down expression on her face, as if she were about to attend to nothing more interesting than a perm and a blow dry. "Can I help you?"

"Time to get Pete out of there, Julie," he said, his voice taking charge. "Linc thinks the situation doesn't add up, and I agree with him."

"Would you like that appointment now or after lunch?" she asked.

"Now," he said. "Right now. Get Linc and put on the show."

"Yes, Ma'am, I'll pencil you in."

The dial tone sounded in his ear and he unknotted the tie and opened the top button on his shirt for good measure. He smiled in satisfaction as he removed the petty cash from the register, flipped the sign on the door to 'Closed', and locked it tight with the key. It would be a relief to get Pete out of there and into his office where they could talk and figure this whole thing out. He tried to ignore the feeling of concern that curled in his stomach as he walked to his car. Over at the warehouse where Pete had been slaving away, there was an ominous silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Inside the warehouse the boss was standing at the doorway to the large metal refrigerator door. Next to him was a rolling crate hauler loaded down with a pallet of white cardboard boxes. The boss didn't bother calling out any directions; he just waved him over. Pete put down the heavy box already in his arms.

His arms that felt like something had gone wrong inside the bicycle pump. He stretched them out as he walked, narrowing his eyes as he studied the face of his new boss. The man was glaring right back at him, and had been, ever since Pete had first walked on the job. He had spat orders, had made Pete dig under and haul and mend machinery, in fact, all the worst work in a warehouse; the side stuff that needs to get done but no one else is being paid to do it. As if the man were punishing him. As if he were delivering a judgment that he thought Pete deserved, for as long as he could get away with it.

"Stack these boxes of meat inside the refrigeration unit," the man grunted.

Pete didn't waste time with words. He just adjusted his work gloves, propped open the refrigerator door with his hip while he pulled the crate hauler inside. The heavy door shut behind him, and he looked around the inner metal room, corrugated floors and walls that didn't frost over, and shelves against the far wall. He began moving the boxes, but he barely had time to start a sweat before the lock mechanism in the door clicked into place and the overhead light in the refrigeration unit turned off.

Setting the heavy box down with care he straightened with slow deliberation. He had to keep his head now. He had been locked in a room with no heat and no light.

But it was okay, because it wasn't long before the door was opened for him. He judged that less than half an hour had passed of his time in the dark. He blinked, trying to rise up, to say something, but his muscles, once he had crouched down in the corner to conserve heat, seemed to have tangled and then froze.

"Pete!" snapped Linc's voice, and he breathed a sigh in relief. He held up his hand and smiled. The light snapped on, and there in the doorway stood Julie, leaned against the frame and standing quiet. Linc grasped his wrist and Pete took hold, and soon they were out of the room.

"What's going on?" Pete asked, around the chattering of his teeth. Then he grinned. "You the heat?"

"No, we're the fuzz," said Julie, smiling back.

"Captain said to get you out, but the warehouse emptied before we had time to knock," Linc added. "We just had to wait until you were the only one left inside."

"They were on to us," Julie concluded.

Pete was glad to see sunlight as they left the vacated warehouse, and the heat of the late afternoon in L.A. felt good.

"That boss had it in for me the whole time," he said. "Locking me in the refrigerator was just his way of saying goodbye."

They climbed in the Woody, but Linc elbowed him to the middle when Pete moved to drive. For some reason they always drove all three together in the front seat. It was like the back of the car didn't exist. Pete put his head back and tried to think. He was still cold, but shoulder-to-shoulder with Linc on one side and Julie on the other his shivers gradually died away.

"Hey wake up," Julie said, nudging his shoulder. Linc was leaning in the driver's side, staring at him.

"I'm one cool cat, aren't I?"

"Yeah, well, cats don't dig ice," answered Linc. "You made me cold, driving here. How long were you in that refrigerator anyway?"

"Quit frowning at me. I was just sitting in there planning my way out."

"Your way out would've been too permanent, man."

Soon they were inside, and Captain Greer got down to business. He started to give them the low down, but he took a moment to check up.

"You okay, Pete? Your face looks white."

"The boss man gave me the cold shoulder on his way out. He introduced me to the big refrigerator. I was locked inside until Linc and Julie found me."

Captain Greer sat on the edge of his desk, his face all business.

"So do you think he knew Linc and Julie were coming? Or did he intend to murder you?"

"I think that boss knew I was a cop," Pete said, blunt now. It was time to get it out into the open. Greer nodded and got up, moving to sit at his desk.

"Let's go over the facts," he said. "Three days ago an anonymous tip is called into the station. A lot of details are given about that warehouse, but when we do the background check, we get nothing. We send in an undercover, you Pete, and the tip ends up being a waste. Meanwhile, at the same time, your boss starts acting like a man who doesn't appreciate being infiltrated by a cop. He uses you and treats you like dirt until you get tired of it and give up. The question is; how did he know what the trick was?"

"Maybe there wasn't ever anything wrong with that warehouse at all," said Julie. "Maybe the tip was fake and Pete just had to work hard."

"No dice," said Linc. "It's true the warehouse was clean, Pete was never restricted anywhere he was sent to work. But I don't trust that boss man. We just were sent to the wrong place to catch him with his dirty laundry on."

"It stinks," said Pete. "But I don't see there's anything we can do about it."

Greer scratched the back of his neck and sighed.

"I think you're right, Pete. I'll have a black and white make and extra turn or two around that neighborhood for the next few days, but for now, we'll just have to go back to our normal work." The Captain stood up and grinned. "But not tonight," he added. "For tonight we're all going out to eat. There's this little place that I know of that serves the best lasagna in town. After that, you'll go home and get some rest. And tomorrow, I'm giving you the day off. You got that, Pete?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three-

Pete slept hard, his foot dangling off the end of his couch, having been too tired to climb into bed up in his loft. Dinner with Captain Greer had been a rare experience, for the man was relaxed and willing to tell them stories about his own younger days and what it had been like to be a police officer in LA just after the war.

A sound brought him partially awake. And then a repeating clatter woke him the rest of the way. He reared up, his heart pounding protest.

Someone was in his apartment, trying to pick their way in the dim light that filtered in the windows from the streetlight outside. Pete put his feet to the floor in slow motion. His muscles poised he prepared to leap, but the intruder was faster. In seconds a shadow struck him from the side. They fell to the floor, his attacker on top. Pete gyrated, rearing up and dumping the weight, spearing his arm down to try to hold the person to the floor. But he was pushed off balance, whipping back out of the way and ducking as his used thrift store lamp crashed into his shoulder. He shoved forward, hard, but his attacker slithered by, tangling into him. He felt like he was in slow motion, his normally quick instincts slowed by weariness and the confusion of being taken by surprise. And worse, it was soon revealed that his attacker had a weapon. Unused until now, Pete saw the light glance off the side of a billy club.

Whack! It struck him, right on the bony side of his ribs. And then it swung high, and Pete ducked again and deflected the blow that would've cracked across his temple. His forearm received the force of it, and his bone vibrated pain as the weapon slid down to his wrist.

Anger kicked in, wiping out the rest of the fog of sleepiness.

"What do you want?" he roared, seeing the club coming at him again. He squinted, focusing, and this time he took charge. Both hands flew up, one to connect and slow the force of the blow, and the other to snatch. In seconds the billy club belonged to him, and he wasted no time. Now he swung it, low, and his assailant gasped out in pain as the weapon connected with his leg. In the same sweeping motion he swung higher, connecting now into the chest area. His attacker started gasping for air. One last swing, this time aimed for his skull to knock his attacker out.

But again his attacker had the upper hand. The flash of light emitted by a gunshot at close range photographed the gun barrel in his mind. The bullet splintered through the wooden barstool at his kitchen counter. Pete had no chance to leap, and no time to counterstrike. The second bullet was sent from the chamber seconds after the first. He fell back, tripping over his coffee table. Something crashed beside and around him, the destruction of more of his furniture. And then the weight of his attacker settled onto his chest, throwing a heavy cloth over his face, containing his movements as if he were snared into a net. The cloth was jammed into the space under his nostrils, and a hand flattened over his mouth. Two knees spaced his arms, and now he struggled for breath and couldn't find any.

But if this creep thought he was gonna give up without a fight he was wrong, Pete turned into frenzy, gyrating and striking and feeling his blows connect. Whoever his attacker was, he wasn't walking away from this encounter without a few bruises. But the person must've realized that this was their only chance to beat him, and so they hung on like a leech, riding out the cyclone until lack of oxygen made him dizzy.

He protested in noises now, groaning, but hearing his own whimper. Lungs bursting he struggled more, throwing his head to the side. Dark circles moved in his head, and then his consciousness fled. He had lost the battle, and his body melted into the floor as his strength deserted him. Just as he was passing away, the cloth was removed, and he tried to draw in a breath as his body was swung over, with his face grinding into the rug. He felt his hands being pulled behind his back, and the weight of handcuffs clicked into locked positions onto his wrists. He was yanked to his feet and he stumbled along, blinking for sight as they came to his back door. But a bag was pulled over his head, so he never knew who had taken him prisoner. He was pushed down into the trunk of a car and the lid was slammed over him. Misery sank on top of him as he felt the car rev to life. And then he was driven off into the night, with nothing but the hope that Linc and Julie and the Captain would soon be on the case to comfort him.


	4. Chapter 4

Linc was pacing across Pete's apartment, frowning, and Captain Greer picked up the two pieces of the phone. He set the base back on the little table that rested by the couch. Dropping the receiver in place, he contemplated the calls he could make. Linc ranged by his field of vision again, the young man's passion contained, not yelling or emoting verbally, but his eyes on fire.

It was so obvious what had happened here. First Pete hadn't shown up to work, but no one was surprised. He was sleeping in, tired after his slaving work at the warehouse. So they had called him, the busy signal never changing alerting them at last. Linc had said he would go and check on him. Captain Greer had driven him here.

And now it was apparent, the evidence everywhere. The single blanket on the couch, half pulled off onto the floor. The splintered coffee table, flattened like a pancake. The spray of papers, dotted with a speckling of coffee dregs. If the entire apartment had been affected, one would think that it had been rifled through or vandalized. But this attack was centralized, focused on a sleeping victim, and worse, a victim that was now missing.

Linc paced by, and shot him a look. 'Get busy' that look said. 'Solve this'. Like a doctor feeling the strange sensation of waiting in a hospital lobby for news of a loved one, Greer felt the grip of anxiety now. He was supposed to have the solution to a problem like this. He picked up the phone, and repositioned some of his black and white cars. He put out an APB, telling the officers to look out for Pete. His voice faltered as he put in the description.

"Caucasian male, 5foot ten, about 160 lbs, early twenties, dark, curly hair, blue eyes," he said after a moment. "It's Pete, Fred!" he complained when the dispatcher asked for more description. "Get the alert out right away."

He and Linc went back to his office. It made them feel busy, instead of seeing the exhaustive road of few leads stretching before them. The fact that Pete had been misused at the warehouse followed by his immediate abduction afterwards couldn't be a coincidence. He would send investigators over to that warehouse. In fact…

"Linc, you and Julie get over to that warehouse. Find out if you think those bosses had anything to do with Pete's disappearance."

"I think the cat we're looking for is the one that called in the tip in the first place," Linc responded. "The same person probably tipped off the warehouse that Pete was the fuzz."

Greer sighed. Didn't the boy see that they had to investigate all the possibilities, even if they seemed less likely? That's what thorough police work was all about. You thinned out the false leads, and then the probable cause was more clearly seen.

"Linc is right," put in Julie.

He turned to them.

"So what do you want to do instead?" he demanded.

"Whoever this cat is, he's not done playing his game," Linc went on. "I think Pete's in trouble and we need to find him fast, not waste time at that warehouse."

Greer turned to the window so they wouldn't see the look on his face. They were at the mercy of this villain, until he was done playing with them, but Greer was afraid that the game was already completed. That it had ended, sometime in the night while they had all been sleeping, with Pete's death. Why hadn't there been any demands or phone calls made? And yet perhaps Pete was still alive and useful to the creep. There had to be something he could do to find out!

The phone on his desk rang, almost in answer to his thoughts. He snatched it.

"Greer," he snapped. He listened, his heart pounding in eagerness, and then he turned to the other two kids standing at attention in his office.

"A young man matching Pete's description was found beside the road up in the hills an hour ago," he told them. "Unconscious and with no ID on him. They've taken him to Mercy General. No way of knowing if it's Pete unless we go and see for ourselves."

Linc was already out the door.

"Better than standing here worrying," said Julie, and he agreed. In minutes he had informed the desk sergeant where he would be if there was any news and they were in his car. Linc was quiet, ready to get down to business, but Julie had something to say.

"What are we going to do if it isn't Pete?" she asked, her pretty eyes troubled. Greer patted her shoulder. "Just hang on till we find out, Julie," he said. But the drive bypassing much of the L.A. area seemed endless. Outside the windows were other vehicles, shoppers on the street corners, criminals pretending to have legitimate business, kids playing until their childhoods ran out in the city. But inside the car was tension, of the caged bobcat variety when he glanced at Linc, and the tragic calm of worry when he saw Julie. In his mind's eye he thought of Pete, rebellious only in that he rejected the empty plans his parents had for his life, desiring to find the real nugget of living for himself.

Seeing in the friendship of Linc and Julie a bond that few others could understand, Pete held them together, making them a family, with Greer as a sort of kind uncle. Greer had seen potential in Pete, like the other two, that they just needed a direction to go or they would get into more trouble. But underneath, the heart of all three was good. They had placed their lives in his hands, and followed his suggestion to help others by taking criminals off the streets. He wondered as he had done before if he had been fair to them, and if he had been fair to himself. He hadn't protected himself from learning to care too much about these three. What if it wasn't Pete at that hospital, as Julie had said? What if the next time a report came in for them to check out, it was to arrive in time to see Pete being placed in a body bag on his way to the morgue? He growled, causing Julie to jump beside him and a pertinent glance from Linc to be thrown his way.

"Sorry," he muttered. "We're almost there."

The hospital came into sight, and he parked right in front. They hurried in, had a murmured conversation with the starched nurse in her white cap at the admitting desk, and were directed to the elevators.

"Room 407," she told them.

They all stopped to take a breath once they stood outside the door of 407. The hospital hallway was empty, but they could see the edge of the nurse's station nearby. Captain Greer pushed open the door, stilling his urgency to match the muted, careful pace of the hospital. They crept in.

Waves of relief and then other emotions held him in place once his eyes zeroed in on the face that lie on the pillow.

It was Pete. His hair had a dusty tight look to the curls. His face was white. He was wearing the thin white cotton shift that tied at his throat that one always saw in a hospital. His arm had an IV, and Greer could see the bruises streaked along it from here. Julie was the first to make contact. She went and touched his hand.

"Pete," she entreated, but there was no response from their friend. Linc leaned right over the bed.

"Wake up, Pete," he added.

"I'll go find the doctor," Greer said, taking action again. They needed to be told that everything was all right. That soon Pete would wake up and be fine. That doctor had better cooperate.


	5. Chapter 5

Some Cats Get Too Close to the Wire; Chapter Five-

Pete had a difficult time waking up. Green and black bulbous hues held him in a sticky knot of sleep. When he tried to rise to the surface, the colors swayed as if he were coursing through a nightmare. Sinking back and giving in, sleep shut off the light of his consciousness.

But there came a time when his head pushed through the thickness and allowed him passage. He opened his eyes. No surprise, it was Julie sitting next to him, her pretty face quiet. Her eyes were mournful until he stirred. Then her face switched to profile. She spoke to the side.

"He's awake, Captain."

"Linc, get the Doctor," Captain Greer ordered, and Linc appeared at the door and slipped out after sending him a glance.

"Pete, are you all right?" demanded Greer, leaning over the bed rails. "Can you talk to us?"

His mouth was slow to move. So he nodded.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Greer muttered.

The door opened and a doctor in a lab coat came in, looking important and ready for business.

"Stand back, please," said the man. His three friends, Linc then Julie then the Captain lined up against the wall. Pete tried to smile at them, but a small beady light was being shone in his eyes. The doctor began asking him questions and calling him, 'young man'.

'Young man, how many fingers am I holding up?' 'Do you know where you are?' 'What day is it?'

Pete tried to keep up, but his voice lagged behind.

"He hasn't come out of it yet," the Doctor reported. "He's been given some sort of hallucinogen, mixed with a powerful tranquilizer and something else that the lab hasn't been able to process."

"Is he going to be all right?" the Captain demanded, in a tone that insisted that the man had better answer in the affirmative.

"I should think so," the Doctor said, vaguely. "Give him some more time and perhaps I'll be able to tell you."

The Doctor tried to get away, but Greer wasn't in the mood. His Captain followed him out the door, snapping for answers. Pete made eye contact with Linc. He still couldn't talk, or even move all that much. But as he stared into Linc's eyes he saw his friend begin to lose that hunkered down look he was carrying. He knew Linc would understand.

"It's all right Pete," said Linc, his hand now resting on his shoulder. "I see you in there. You just take it easy until you're ready to talk to us."

It helped that Linc had recognized the connection. He nodded and sighed. Julie's hand, small yet long and shapely, slipped into his. He curled onto his side and kept hold, focusing on Linc's touch on his shoulder and Julie's grip. He went back to sleep, feeling better.

The next time he woke up, it was a great relief to move his limbs in the bed. It was as if he were a vacuum cleaner now able to motivate after being plugged in. He was eager to see the faces of his friends, but his room was empty. He blinked, and his brain obliged by delivering clear thought.

It was late, for Pete could see the night out the window, where the blinds cracked open in slants. A small night-light shone over his bed. His arms were taped and tubed, and hospital silence had settled down in the hallways. He rested back against his pillows. His friends had probably been sent home, with an order to try and get some sleep too. He began an inner inspection of his body parts. His head was clearer but it had a dull ache. He had other aches too, across his ribs, his forearms, and his knuckles. Even his jaw was sore. He felt very tired, but no longer sleepy.

A shadow appeared in his doorframe as it was pushed open a few inches. At first he wasn't alarmed. A nurse perhaps, wanting to check on him but not to disturb? And yet the long listening pause that followed alerted him. The figure at his doorway wasn't moving like a hospital professional. And he suspected that he had been with this person before. As the seconds ticked by and his almost-visitor clung just out of sight, Pete tried to gather his strength. That couldn't be a nurse, or anyone else good. Whoever it was seemed aware of him, of his alertness. He rustled, wondering if he could get his feet on the floor and rush the intruder.

But as he supported his arms and lowered his feet to the floor he knew it was no good. He wasn't ready for another wrestling match. Suddenly he was certain of the intruder's identity.

"It's you, isn't it," he managed to say, his voice guttural. The figure at the door froze.

"Why don't you come in and face me?" he spoke again, getting angry. He was weak, and no doubt foolish to itch for a confrontation. But he wanted to see his attacker's face.

"What are you, some sort of coward?" he stressed, pleased to hear his voice now strong and back to normal.

And then he heard a shout in the hall. His door yanked closed, and the scuffling sound of running footsteps outside could be heard, for just a second, until the hospital silence settled back into place. Pete sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding, and waited.

When next his door pushed open he knew his adversary was gone. A policeman, a full-fledged uniform cop hurried in. He knew him, a man in his fifties that had been a beat cop for over twenty years.

"What goes on?" the cop bellowed. "You all right, kid?"

He grinned.

"Hi Pete," he said.

Pete Stamford, a cop that Greer must've set on duty to watch over him, relaxed into his polished black police shoes. He grinned back.

"Hi Pete," he returned. "But what happened? Can't a cop step out for two seconds to use the facilities?"

Pete was going to make a joke but a small white object caught his eye.

"Hey, Pete, what's that? There, on the floor."

The other cop turned, and then bent.

"It's an envelope, Pete Cochran," he said. "And this letter's got your name on it."

Pete took it, frustrated by how much strength it took to dig his finger under the flap and tear it open. He read the few sentences and shook his head. He handed it off to the other man, squinting now from a resurgence of pounding headache. He rubbed the throbbing place above his eyebrow.

"Hmmm," Stamford said, after a moment. "I guess the Captain should be told about this. Stay here, kid. I'm going to use the phone at the nurses' station."

"Just remember that I'm helpless," he cracked, grinning again. "Don't turn your back on me."

"You helpless?" Stamford laughed. "That'll be the day."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Captain Greer was wondering if he could have a freak out like one of the teenagers he saw at the beach once. He sat alone, at his desk, with a pile of cases he could look into stacked in pencil-scuffed file folders in his in/ out box. But he couldn't keep his mind on business. Not since Pete Stamford had tapped on his door and personally made his report to him this morning.

Yes, young Pete was fine, recovering quickly, or seeming to with his growing determination to get out of bed and hit the streets. But that didn't change the fact that he'd been in trouble in the middle of the night.

Greer was surprised at the person who must've waited in some storage closet or emptied patient room on Pete's floor for the one opportunity he had to strike, when Stamford had stepped away from the door for just a moment to visit the men's room.

If Pete had been deep asleep instead of restless, what would the assailant have done then?

Greer shook off the image of strong hands, holding a pillow over Pete's face. It did no good to let his mind wander down the dead-end pit of dark might've-beens. The question was, what were they going to do about it now? He'd already woken Linc up this morning with a call to get down to the hospital and sit on Pete's room with the uniform stationed there until further notice. Nothing much got by Linc, especially shadowy figures that hid in stairwells.

But Greer suspected that the perp was gone now. That chance to catch him had passed away. Stamford had been right to stay with Pete instead of give chase, but Greer was frustrated. From Pete's description, this perp seemed like a young punk. Pete had almost gotten the upper hand over him when he'd attacked him in Pete's apartment. He must know he was risking being caught every time he got too close, and yet he came on, drawn to the fire like a moth about to watch its wings go up in smoke.

The phone rang and Greer jumped.

"Greer."

"Hello, Captain, this is Julie."

"I'll bet you're wondering if anything's up. I sent Linc over to sit with Pete this morning."

"Yeah, he told me. He said some cat tried to scratch Pete last night."

"Right. Don't worry, Julie. This punk takes too many risks, and he keeps coming back for more. We're gonna get him, and soon."

"Well, that's what I'm calling about."

"Yeah?"

"I think there's someone watching my pad. I saw something move across the street."

Greer kept himself from swearing into a young lady's ears. His mind moved through the switch plates. He smiled grimly. He'd wanted Pete to get a little more rest, but he and Linc were the closest to Julie's apartment, besides a couple of uniforms he could redirect.

"Don't move from your apartment, honey," he ordered. "Help is on the way."

He frowned as he pushed down the disconnect button and dialed another that he'd memorized last night. Soon he had Pete on the line.

"How're you feeling, Pete?" he demanded without preamble.

"Like something the cat drug in and then left behind," Pete cracked. "Why?"

"Julie called. There's someone stacking out her place. You and Linc get down there. I'll send a patrol too."

"Right," Pete said, followed by the dial tone. Greer sighed, and then clenched his fists.

First Pete, then Julie. That punk sure knew how to sucker punch. He clutched the phone receiver and got busy. Once he was done issuing orders he snatched up his suit coat and got his gun out of his desk drawer, all on his way out the door. Just in case.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The doctors put up a fuss when he and Linc left the hospital, and that wasted valuable minutes. They got to Julie's pad and Pete felt immediate concern. There was a black and white car parked out front, and Pete could see the two uniformed officers from here. They were standing on the porch, knocking politely with one hand while their other hand rested on their hips near their weapons.

"Don't like the look of this layout," Linc complained as Pete slammed the Woody into gear and slipped out the door in one motion. Linc, who tended to slither like a cat that was made out of springs, was already up the steps and digging her apartment key out of his pocket. Up at the front door, all was dark inside.

"Julie!" they called, a moment later as they pushed inside and flipped on the overhead light. It didn't take long to scan the whole pad. The kitchen counter in the back, the small round table that counted as a dining room, the wicker psychedelic furniture in the living room, and the loft area, one step up with railing, that counted as her bedroom. Filled with color and Julie's idea of style, it seemed too tidy and quiet without her beauty to bring it to life.

"The bed hasn't been slept in," came the Captain's voice, from behind them. He'd arrived and already gotten down to business. But Pete stood still, trying to shake the rest of the fog from his head.

"Not Julie," he murmured.

Linc wasn't frozen though, and he was just shutting the bathroom door on his way to the back door out of the kitchen.

"You're right, Linc, check outside in the back! Julie would've put up a fight, or left us a clue!" said the Captain, as if in agreement of where Linc's mind was moving. Pete nodded, waking up. It was too tidy in here, indicating that Julie must've left. If she'd been attacked in here, there'd be evidence. Soon they all stood on her back stoop. Captain Greer leaned back inside her apartment and told the uniform cops to start circling the streets. Then they came together, and stood still for a moment. Greer had one hand raised, commanding the air around to give him answers. Linc stood poised, his head turned. And Pete closed his eyes and listened. He lifted his head, hoping a scent would reach him.

When the muffled noise of distress came they all jerked. The three of them narrowed even closer together for silence. He and Linc had a hold of each other's arm.

"Mmmph!" came a feminine voice, and this time they zeroed in on it.

"There!" Linc said, "over by those trash cans!"

They hurried forward, trying to see in the darkened alley, reached the corner and relieved by a small amount of light from a nearby streetlight.

And there was Julie. Wearing a simple little dress with short skirt and a round collar, she looked like a schoolgirl. Her feet were bare and her slim legs bent at the knees. She was gagged and tied hand and foot. She shook her head at them.

Pete's head was throbbing with tension as they dived forward. He helped Captain Greer pull her to her feet and supported her while Linc freed her from her bonds.

"I saw some cat out front, so I thought I'd hide out back," she gasped, as soon as she was free. "He was waiting for me!"

"Julie honey, are you all right?" Pete asked. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm all right."

"Come on back inside," said Greer. "We can talk there."

"It was like he knew what I was going to do," she was saying, as they surrounded her and helped her inside. Pete fell behind as they others went along, and he clenched his fists in frustration.

Why grab Julie but not take her away or do real harm to her? Why approach Pete in his hospital room but not come inside? Why threaten but not commit the whole crime? What did the cat want?

They got inside and sat around on Julie's furniture. The fact that she wasn't up and feeling homey and making them coffee signified how shook up she was. Captain Greer reached in his pocket and pulled out the note that Pete had gotten from the perp in the hospital.

"It's time to figure this out, people," the Captain said. "First Pete and now Julie. This punk is getting too close."

"Some cats get too close to the wire," Linc said. "This one's about to get burned."


End file.
